Thursday, March 24, 2005

She hated him. On first sight. Hated, detested, abhorred, reviled. But then she also had the same kind of passionate hate for ingrown toe-nails, papayas and red ties. Hate then becomes a misnomer, a shortcut to describe incompatibility and irritation. A state of not-getting-along. He then was nothing but an exaggerated peeve. But that was not what she would say. The word she used was hate.

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